A Little Dizzy
by Murdoch Rouge of the Morgue
Summary: The fiery haired beauty pursed her lips and gave a thoughtful glance back into the makeshift homestead her reluctant companion was just about to enter then pointed a thin finger towards the roof, now sporting a gaping hole. "Just dropped in, I guess!"
1. The First Symptom

{A/N} Due to the severe (and fairly recently discovered) lack of Dizzy (Duncan + Izzy) based fiction, I've decided to devote a good portion of my summer to writing works for my two favorite campers, who I truly believe should've at _least_ hooked up during the course of the show. They're too similar and just the right amount of psychotic to have so little interaction with one another, so this is my rebellion against and contribution to you, Total Drama! Also, as a quick excuse for my points of utter atrocity during the course of this long-winded chapter, this is a rather basic introduction to a setting that most (if not all) of my TDI/A/WT fictions will take place during, so I figured I'd do it in as much detail as possible for the quick pace I'd like to get it over with in. As far as I could go with all of the characters as people in such an open-ended setting, my sole interest is Duncan and Izzy's developing relationship, not the others. There's always room for a sequel, anyhow. Please, review if you'd be interested in seeing my take on other characters' growth and relationships with the others in this odd, yet delightfully vague setting, and if you're a fellow, hopeless Dizzy fanatic like me. Please enjoy, and please, _please_ review!

{Disclaimer} I don't claim ownership over any of the characters, names, or any other merchandise referenced in this work of fiction. I do, however, have rights to the situations I set them in, and kindly advise you to ask permission to use said situations if you so choose to.

{Summary} As a gift from the production crew of the Total Drama series to the cast, each one of the unwitting teens was shipped back to Wawanakwa for the remainder of their summer, just a few weeks before filming for Total Drama World Tour began. It's the only vacation anyone's had in the past year, what with the past two seasons of glorified, televised torture, and everyone's glad to have some time out of the limelight, as far as they know. What drama will the Total Drama teens stir up on a _real_ vacation, more specifically, which two infamous hoodlums will discover they have much, much more in common than anyone could've thought?

* * *

**A Little Dizzy**

The usual hum of collective chatter filled the mess hall as the last of the motley group of teens arrived with their belongings gathered erroneously into varying suit cases, duffle bags, and simplistic yet sufficient rucksacks clutched at their sides or over their shoulders. It was the same group of teens as had inhabited the pathetic excuse for a summer camp nearly a year ago, though everything seemed much more natural, more relaxed, more _realistic_ than they'd all been that short year ago. Excusable, though, as they'd all been led to believe there were no cameras anywhere on the premises, and the fact there was no million dollar prize to hack away at every last one of the surrounding twenty-one campers for. Chris McLean, the notorious and heavily malicious reality show host, would be acting as one of the "camp counselors" alongside his reluctant consort, Chef Hatchet, for the following weeks, present only to supervise the vast group of reality television personalities and toss in a few illegal scares and pranks, unbeknownst to the teens, of course. Entertainment was a dirty business, and each of them were given fair warning at the show's uneasy start, after all.

Clapping his freshly manicured hands together an odd few times as a feeble attempt to capture the teens' attention, Chris signaled - after a final failed pursuit – to Chef to make his authority known, eliciting a macabre yelp from the veteran turned self proclaimed culinary prodigy. Immediately, all was quiet and both elder men were well aware all attention was upon them. Chris cleared his throat in thanks to his friend, and waved him off with a fluid flick of his wrist. Shaking his head in distaste, the sturdily built man lumbered back into the kitchen, murmuring in protest until his gravelly voice died away, the sliding door into the linoleum encrusted room flapping closed with him disappearing from it.

"I'd ask how the trip here from the studio was, but frankly, I don't care! Y'know why?" the excitable, yet all too sadistic young movie star wagered with the numerous others occupying the spacious room, evidently unaware that the conversation was not, in fact, one-sided, as it tended to be; much too accustomed to the narcissistic bastard setting the rules for them, obviously.

A lanky teenage girl scantily clad in remarkably dark clothing towards the back of the multi-purpose room, Gwen, called back in response to the hedonistic host. "You haven't even _hinted_ at caring about any of us whatsoever at all in the events leading up to all of this, so it's a wonder why any of us would expect any different…" The rather morbid looking, young self-proclaimed "goth" scowled towards the end of her own statement, earning a few oddly placed groans of disapproval from the other teens about her.

Chris narrowed his thick brows at the minor annoyance with a grunt, but poised his lips to continue where he'd left off. "Because it's freakin' _vacation_, and that means no more grueling challenges, no more alliances or ruthless plots for someone else's demise, and no more video cameras in the washrooms! And before you ask, yes, Chef is still cooking all your food, and no, we're _not_ responsible for any diseases you may contract from eating whatever the hell he gives you _and_ we've got the paperwork to back it up, so Courtney, you can hang up on your lawyer now. Looks like we got through that a lot faster than the producers thought, so, I guess you guys can all get to your cabins now and we—"

"Chris?" the youthful, rather drowsy sounding drone rumbled from the resident partier Geoff, a half-empty soda in one strong hand whilst the other lay draped over the slender frame of the equally apathetic teenage girl beside him, Bridgette.

"Or I could answer questions. Right, that's totally how I wanted to spend _my_ vacation too. Shoot, dude." The aforementioned host grumbled, crossing his arms before gazing out at the beach, a few generously sized yards from the campsite through the cheap screen door keeping him from his precious tan.

Geoff, not recognizing the rather unfriendly tone in the elder man's voice, grinned widely at the impatient actor, taking a quick swig from the perspiring glass bottle in his able grip. "Is there, like, _any_ supervision? I mean, you n' Chef are the only old dudes here, right?"

Brows furrowed in blatant offense, Chris forced only a blank, disinterested stare to meet with the blonde partier's, before sighing, "We have a few interns running around on errands for me and Chef, but yeah, we're the only camp counselors here. Co-ed rooms, too, by the way. Pick your roommates wisely, 'cause you're trapped with 'em for the rest of your summer. Anymore questions? Too late, don't care. I'll be working on my tan if anyone needs me, so feel free to do me a solid and _not_ need me. Later, kids!"

With that, the crowded room was emptied of any and all authority and each newly unrestricted teen released a celebratory cheer before collecting their possessions and racing off towards the cabins, each one eager to share a room with the girls and guys of their choosing, this time. Separating twenty-two overactive and much too intent teenagers into only four mediocre quality cabins, however, is in no way simple, nor all that desirable. The first cabin overlooked the peaceful shoreline and the murky turquoise lake waters lapping lazily at said barren sands, perfect for taking a dive or just relaxing and following Chris's lead and catching up on a few well deserved rays after the months of emotional and physical distress whilst taping their essentially self-imposed mutilation that the rest of the world had fancied to call Total Drama.

The second and third cabins stood, unstably mind you, nearest the forest limits, directly across from the showers and local washrooms, and a delightfully short distance from the mess hall. Despite the convenience, they're arguably the most poorly built lodgings within the altogether rather dismal campsite, and are consistently plagued by rogue forest creatures wandering their way into and around the cabins. The fourth cabin, while the most fastidious of any of the four living quarters offered to the returning campers, is furthest from any of the campsite utilities, but nearest to the disreputable – yet highly rated by fans of the series – cliff from which each camper leapt in the very first night spent at Wawanakwa.

Our main focuses, two fairly young and notorious troublemaking specimens, gravitated immediately toward the insecure, modestly sized cottage; one to follow his hesitantly close-knit faction of friends while the other desired only the easy access to the forest as well as what she briefly analyzed to be a paramount view of the moon from its unsteady roofing in the unholy hours of night. Duncan, a well built and indifferent delinquent fresh out of juvenile hall for what had to have been the twelfth time, sauntered without purpose up the rickety steps up to the cabin he'd watched his relatively good friend, and resident brick house with a monstrously warm heart, wander into of his own accord, evidently electing not to stick around to chat with several of his own mutual friends.

The viridian plumed teen cringed as the wooden floorboards screeched under his every step and paused in the slightly faulted doorway, pushing open the rest of the way and chuckling a bit at the staggered shriek his taller, more muscular friend belted out. "S'okay, DJ, no one special. Got room for one more in this shit-hole?"

DJ nodded and finished placing the ever so cherished framed photo of his mother on the nightstand beside his chosen divan, setting his knapsack down casually upon the lower bunk and swooping below to take a seat beside it in a single, fluid motion. "'Course there's room, man! You seen Courtney and Gwen at all today? I got interrogated by those two 'bout you, right after I got off the boat-they seemed a li'l jumpy. I hope they're okay…"

Shaking his head and, sniggering silently to himself, the delinquent fell onto the bunk opposite the much too kindhearted young man, dumping his heavy duffle bag in an unorganized heap on the cabin floor at his large, sneaker sheathed feet. "Jumpy is _not_ the word, dude. I don't get what it is with girls. I mean they're all just so—"

"We're all just so, _what_, Duncan?" an indistinctly feminine and familiarly soothing voice resonated as one of the most infamous couples, Bridgette and Geoff, meandered across the threshold and into the shabby one-room bungalow.

Both of the nonpareil companions already residing quite comfortably within the thin, pathetically constructed wooden walls chanted friendly greetings to their friends and roommates, a fact made apparent by the thoughtless placing of Geoff's luggage and abrupt decision to make himself comfortable on the mattress beside DJ, in conjunction with Bridgette busying herself with the task of sorting her clothes in the limited storage offered by the nightstand alone. Duncan grazed the back of his neck with his calloused fingertips, clearing his throat for a moment as Bridgette glared over her shoulder at him, still obviously expecting a response.

"Well, not _all_ girls, just Gwen and Courtney. What makes them so fucking _catty_, anyway, Bridge?" the proud troublemaker pondered a small bit too confidently, judging from the snide smirk gracing his thin lips.

Manipulating her moderately full, slightly moistened lips into a thin, incredulous line, the composed teenage surfer planted her hands on her curvaceous hips and turned to face her friend, with whom she was almost always at odds with – for whatever reason. "Have you _met_ Courtney? The second she saw you and Gwen 'wrestle' to the ground, both of you were royally screwed, dude. And since Gwen and Trent aren't together anymore, she's decided to risk it and go _after_ you, but Courtney's not about to let that happen. They're being catty because they're obsessive girls, it's what they do."

Gentle, honey brazen eyes met with hardened azure ones as Duncan searched for the proper retort that didn't let on just how frenetic the adolescent punk felt about his whole situation. If pride hadn't mattered nearly as much as it did to the outspoken young man, he'd have thanked whatever deity there was left to thank that he had a platonic friend like Bridgette to tell him just what he was doing wrong and right with the girls in his life, but of course, elected to stow away those confounding thoughts and smirked cockily towards the much smaller teen. "Oh, I bet. All this time I thought it was just _Courtney_ who couldn't deal with how hot she thought I was, and I find out Gwen has a thing for me too. Not my best, but still a job well done,"

"You just don't know when to quit," the slipshod blond muttered to herself as she went back to her work on the drawer, eventually extending a slender arm back to her boyfriend, a nonverbal question for him to pass her his own belongings for her to put away neatly, to which he complied warmly.

"Don't think this conversation's goin' anywhere good, so," DJ began, his deep voice rumbling lowly in his firmly built chest, unsure of how to change the uncomfortable subject, "what's up? I mean, how many people can we fit in here?"

"Willin' to test that out with a party, bro? I'm all over it! Lemme run over to cabin numero uno and grab Owen's stash of soda and some tunes and we're good to go!" Geoff shouted enthusiastically, striding over to the doorway with a glazed over look in his eyes and the pop bottle still poised in his hand.

"No, I don't mean a party, but keep that thought, seriously. I mean how many more cabin-mates are we gonna have? I don't have any problems with anyone here, but it's gonna be weird for Bridge if she's the only girl, right?"

Duncan pursed his lips and sputtered at his incredibly muscular friend's innate sensitivity, wanting nothing to do with the matter. Bridgette abandoned her place at the bedside bureau once more to thank DJ for just how "considerate" and "friendly" he'd been to her for as long as they'd known one another, which – as Duncan could easily assume – was nothing of interest to him, so he made an effort to focus on something else. He leaned back to lay flat upon the cheap, unlaundered mattress below him and reveled a bit in the memorable squeal it wheezed out beneath his body weight. What did Bridgette care if she was the only girl in the cabin anyway? _She_ chose to follow her own damn boyfriend inside, and she was the only one to blame if she got a little lonely, or felt just a bit awkward.

The young criminal caught a few of Geoff's unsure glimpses and snorted out a hearty laugh, both of the teens well aware that Bridgette was as much a member of the long-disbanded Guy's Alliance as they were, despite their voting her off during Total Drama Island's initial run. Tilting his head forward to cup his hands upon the facility provided pillow and falling back into his own awaiting cradle, Duncan released an uncharacteristically tranquil sigh from the modestly built confines of his chest, heaving up and down rhythmically with his own breathing. It felt good to be back at Wawanakwa, especially with free reign of the grounds. The girls would be the only thing causing him drama as far as he knew, and it felt damn good to finally be free of Chris's egotistical clutches for the first time in what all would agree on as "much too long".

As could be expected, the quiet lasted little more than those sweet, sweet seconds graciously acknowledged by the rash young man, when a shrill, rousing wail drilled through the campsite and through the forest, rattling the trees violently and forcing countless birds from their rightful places in the pines and into the waiting blue skies, the sun – unaffected, of course – still simmering down upon the vulnerable island below. Duncan's eyes were open within moments, his hands clasped tightly over his profusely probed ears, falling to the splintered wooden floor in that same instant. His crystalline blue eyes, wide in fear and confusion, searched those of his roommates and – finding nothing but more disorient – ventured to his feet and to the front deck of the unfortunate little cabin. He dropped one hand to his side and the other fell casually against the porch post, supporting the sheet metal roofing of the lodge as the screaming came to a gradual halt, ebony brows knit closely together in annoyance.

"What the hell was _that_?" he began, running his free hand through his oddly hued, spiked locks and analyzing the large, mostly barren expanse of land before him. Broad shoulders heaved in defeat, the delinquent noticed nothing out of the ordinary but a few fellow campers inspecting to see what was amiss, and turned leisurely on his heel to stroll back into place on his bed, but lurched back in alarm at the familiar face he nearly crashed into on his return trip.

"_Izzy!_" Duncan gasped, losing his footing but regaining his slouched stance with the aforementioned psychopath's steady hand offered to him. "Holy shit, how'd you do that?"

The fiery haired beauty pursed her lips and gave a thoughtful glance back into the makeshift homestead her reluctant companion was just about to enter then pointed a thin finger towards the roof, now sporting a gaping hole. "Just dropped in, I guess!"

Rolling cold eyes at the smaller young woman, Duncan pushed his way past her and receded into his comfortable position on the lower bunk of the double bed both Geoff and Bridgette had apparently called ownership of, evident by their huddled form atop it. Taking note of this most likely unfortunate fact, the criminal quirked a brow at the mattress directly above him, and vowed to sleep with headphones in tact at the very least during the nights. His uninviting gaze befell the yieldingly attractive madwoman still standing over the threshold, wide viridian eyes scouring the inhabitants of the room with intrigue, though Duncan looked away quickly when she made the effort to stare right back at him.

"Um…Iz?" Geoff began, leaping down boldly from his suspended sleeping quarters and taking a few hesitant steps toward the redhead. "What're you doing, bra?"

The slender self-proclaimed adventurer and "general" knotted her thin brows together in confusion and hurt, round, tanned face tilting gently to the side. "You mean I can't stay here? I mean, there are way too many people in Owen's cabin, and Eva's too. Then again, I never really called a bunk in either of their places, I just threw turtles with my spare bikini sashes tied around their ankles through their windows…I guess they didn't catch the message. It's cool if you don't let me stay, I guess, I could just camp out on Noah's cabin's roof like I planned to."

The blonde haired partier chortled good-naturedly at the strange young woman, placing his hand endearingly upon her shoulder. "Nah, it's totally cool if you stick around. Me n' Bridge are sharing a bunk anyway, so there's just enough room for you in here. Nobody's sleeping on the roof unless it's a freaking _beautiful_ prank, as far as I'm concerned."

"How is it totally cool? The chick just fell through the _roof_ asking for a place to stay!" Duncan complained as soon as the excitable little woman took a seat beside the easily contrastable brick house, DJ, giving him a warm embrace and a large, trepid grin in accordance.

Izzy then focused upon Duncan, grinning daringly back at the obviously frustrated juvenile hall probation applicant, that fact reminding her of the several charges that were pressed upon her after numerous stalking and breaking and entering ordeals in middle school and _all_ throughout high school. "Totally weird, I thought you'd like that kinda thing, Dunk-a-doodles. It's breaking and entering _and _destruction of property - busting through a roof - right? That's what Chef tried to charge me with the first time I broke through the roof in the Mess Hall, but nobody catches Explosivo and lives."

Taken aback by the surprisingly extensive knowledge showcased by the somewhat mentally unstable teen, he stared up at her idly before nodding and casting the nonsensical beauty a smirk of approval. "Okay, then. Roommates it is, Dizzy Izzy."

And, little did either of our less than stable subjects know, it was all downhill from there. 


	2. Lunatics

{A/N} Like I mentioned, I apologize for the less than graceful quality of the last chapter. That was a really hurried introduction, and it was all written between the hours of three to five AM. What can I say? Insomnia's a bitch. As the chapters start to focus more and more upon only Izzy and Duncan, the writing will get noticeably better in quality, as I find it so much easier to focus upon two characters as opposed to twenty-two. A heartfelt thank you goes out to those who reviewed on ALD's first date of release, you guys are great. And yes, I purposely filled cabin number three with my top favorite campers, excluding Heather and Harold; but I'll tell you right now, it's totally worth it. Courtney makes her debut in this chapter, and I feel I wrote her almost _too_ in character. I don't like a thing about the girl, but I feel I captured her abrasive and domineering persona well enough to let you guys get a taste of her and Duncan's relationship as well as her ongoing feud with just about everyone around her. I hope this chapter is just as good as, if not better than, the last, but I'm sure I'll hear all about that through reviews. Thanks a ton, guys.

**{Disclaimer}** I don't claim ownership over any of the characters, names, or any other merchandise referenced in this work of fiction. I do, however, have rights to the situations I set them in, and kindly advise you to ask permission to use said situations if you so choose to.

**{Summary}** As a gift from the production crew of the Total Drama series to the cast, each one of the unwitting teens was shipped back to Wawanakwa for the remainder of their summer, just a few weeks before filming for Total Drama World Tour began. It's the only vacation anyone's had in the past year, what with the past two seasons of glorified, televised torture, and everyone's glad to have some time out of the limelight, as far as they know. What drama will the Total Drama teens stir up on a _real_ vacation, more specifically, which two infamous hoodlums will discover they have much, much more in common than anyone could've thought?

* * *

**A Little Dizzy**

The nights spent on the island were unlike any other. Something about the ability to see each and every one of the shimmering ivory stars congregating in contrast across the fathomlessly bleak nighttime sky put things into perspective. In the eyes of the universe, none of these odd few teenagers meant a thing, and yet – as Bridgette made a quick head count of those around the shore side bonfire – the whole lot of the young reality stars would never even think of forgetting the evenings spent with each other in Camp Wawanakwa.

The brisk tarn air coupled with the surprisingly chilling, near-midnight breeze and wafted unabashedly down the beach, successfully bringing a few campers to the conclusion that it was time to turn in for the night. As the crowd surrounding the makeshift, blazing campfire thinned, Duncan and the rest of Cabin Three bid their valedictions to the receding forms of their other friends and took to sitting in a large circle around the modestly controlled flames with the remaining teens. Courtney and Gwen were instantaneously at either of the punk's sides, glaring the poisonous words into each other's eyes rather than speaking them aloud, causing Duncan to sigh throatily of exasperation. It was insanely childish, how both the young, overly competitive women were acting, and _he_ was the one who'd ignited the well in tact bonfire on a few liberated stacks of Harold's underwear!

His aquamarine gaze roved over that of his friends and cabin mates, Geoff and Bridgette, who resided comfortably on the opposite end of the circle, immersed in yet another passionate kiss. The dark haired delinquent frowned and forced his attention elsewhere, only to grin lackadaisically at the sympathetic expression on DJ's face, relaxing on his stomach between Bridgette and Cody, his large, well built arms propped up in front of his massive torso to support the kindly features on his face. Duncan then looked away and scanning busily through the remaining set of faces all sitting about the heated vicinity; upon realization, he quirked a brow in interest, and a slight sort of worry that he was certain would never reveal itself to the others.

"Anybody seen Izzy?" the somewhat thoughtless criminal droned, falling back onto his able, sturdy arms to support the rest of his body, still reclined in quite a leisurely position. He peeked out at the placid waves rolling in on the dampened shore sand, crystalline gaze running slowly across the nearly indeterminable boundaries between darkened sky and terribly murky waters for the missing girl.

DJ perked up a bit, worried about the interests of just about _everyone_, small ebony eyes searching the remaining stretch of the beach for the typically quite noticeable young woman as well. "She was here when y'all started the fire. Did she leave with Katie, Sadie, and Trent?"

"Who _cares_? She's obviously unstable. I say we're all better off if it she gets eaten by a bear or something. Better her than us. I mean, she's a few groundless steps away from going on an axe murdering _rampage_," Courtney retorted sharply, cuddling closer into the delinquent still seated beside her, eyebrows rising and an overconfident smirk forming upon her slightly chapped lips to give an air of utter condescension.

Gwen scowled coldly towards the prep school native, quick with her quips and cruel in persona. She rolled charcoal eyes away from the nauseating scene, and glanced out indifferently in a meager attempt to look for the lost sociopath, wondering solemnly to herself why the boys had gotten so worked up over it. Izzy was almost always wandering about the forest, amusing herself with things most of the other campers had found taboo and stealing appliances and jagged instruments from Chef's station in the Mess Hall. In all actuality, the crazed young woman was almost always on her own, or abducting people from their proper places. It was a slightly unsettling fact to each of the campers, but not a total inconvenience. The chick was a psychopath, and there was just no way around it.

"You really think she smuggled an _axe_ into camp? I think she and I could stand to give each other a few tips!" Duncan marveled whilst running a work trodden few fingers through his thorny green locks.

Most everyone within earshot of the bristly viridian haired troublemaker gaped, easily off-put by the blatantly violent undertones in his statement. Looking around at the slightly frightened young faces about him, said felon shrugged, pride exuding from his unyielding desire to stir up all manner of unrest. Gwen smiled warmly in his direction, though his alluring crystalline eyes were already plastered upon the sky in utter wonderment and intrigue and she was profusely ignored. Courtney was still nestled beneath his burly, cheap fabric clad arm, blathering on and on about her revulsion for the current topic of conversation, forcing the young goth's daunting stare to turn hostile.

"Courtney, you have all the time in the world to talk shit, except _now_. We have to think about what we're gonna do about Izzy! We've all seen how she gets; we can't just let her have free reign of the whole place in the middle of the night, y'know, while we all sleep? I hate to agree with Cutthroat over there, but I'd really like to wake up _living_ tomorrow morning. C'mon, I'll help look for her." Gwen advocated, standing up from her crouched place on the chilled beach sand and brushing off her skirt as was habitual.

The scheming brunette grimaced at the dark teenager, obviously taking offense to her meager insults and parted her lips to hiss back at the infuriating fellow camper, but was preempt by the rough, cavernous voice she recognized as her boyfriend's. "I'm not sure how I feel about interrupting an equal in a potential rebellion, especially when they've got the advantage, but, sure, I'll go too."

DJ stood up as well, nodding his commitment to the dissimilar search party, and glanced down uneasily at Bridgette and Geoff, now a dribbling, slurping heap on the ground beside him. "Looks like we're goin' it ourselves, then. You guys wanna split up or go in a—"

"Wait a minute!" Courtney snapped encircling her bronzed arms around Duncan's own as she too, took a stance, defensive and upset, as anyone and everyone could tell without difficulty. "_I'm_ going too, and we're splitting up into twos. So, Gwen and…_whatever_ your name is, run along. Duncan and I will search the camp. You two have fun in the forest; if you're lucky, she'll only jump _one_ of you and devour your brains."

Crossing her arms over her breast in undeniable fury, Gwen glowered upon the shorter, domineering little thing, at the ready to begin yet another insult battle. Duncan and Courtney, with audible complaint, walked off in the direction of the lodgings, leaving the young poet absolutely _livid _and the kind hearted giant a bit stricken by just how horrible his few experiences with the former counselor-in-training had been. If the gentle jock wasn't nearly as respectful and fastidious as his mother had raised him to be, he was fairly certain he'd have been just as angry as the pale young woman beside him. He laid his large, all too capable hand upon that same, misunderstood girl's shoulder and flashed a soothing smile, thusly eliciting an uncharacteristic one from her in return.

"Don't worry about her," the heavily tanned young Jamaican born arbitrator murmured sweetly, unsure of his own advice, but still determined to keep peace, "she's just a little rough around the edges. I don't think Duncan would go out with her if she was _all_ bad, right? C'mon, sister, let's go find Izzy."

Tilting thick brows upward but still gazing up certainly at her compassionate friend, the goth nodded and followed him past the forest limits, calling the missing lunatic's name as they traveled. "Hey, DJ? Um, thanks."

"You're welcome." He spoke softly, listening in concealed fright to the ambience of the forest as the hunt hastened on ever so laboriously.

* * *

Duncan's chest rumbled gutturally as he breathed out a maddened groan, the rather short trek to the cabins elongated by his girlfriend's incessant ranting. He drove a large palm over his sweat moistened forehead, gazing out longingly at his cabin, only a small distance from the couple that he could sprint with ease, but would probably be scolded for by the tremendous nightmare beside him. His lightly hued gaze met with the night sky once more, scanning for the first sight of the moon that evening, to no avail, for which he was swiftly brought back to reality and chastised for efficiently.

"Are you even _listening_ to me? _Duncan_!" she snapped, letting him loose from her cast iron grip around his left arm and propping her arms up upon her curvaceous hips. "What was that crack about that—that psycho _hose beast_? I know she's staying in your cabin with you with that surfer girl! Did you kiss her? Did she kiss you? What about Bridgette? That's it, I'm demanding a room change from Chris tomorrow, and then I'll give those damn lawyers a piece of my mind about this whole 'vacation'. Something doesn't feel right here!"

"_Oh_ my _God_," the delinquent jeered beneath his breath, practically flouncing up the steps to his cabin's porch, not bothering with the panicked questions Courtney had tossed at him. "Look, I don't see her, and obviously you're not interested in looking for her. Why don't you just go home, and I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Not so fast! I'm not going _anywhere_ until I know Crazy Girl hasn't sunk her claws into you!" the interventionist hissed back to him, taking her place a few feet from the young criminal and glaring threateningly into his terse azure orbs. He wasn't paying attention, made all too apparent by his heaven-turned eyes and involuntary grin. Courtney joined his daunting stare to the sky and, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, parted her full lips to capture his attention once more.

"_Duncan!_" she hissed.

The lanky teen pointed his index finger at the demanding young woman, brows lifting in wonderment at his discovery. He shushed the girl continuously as she made resolute attempts to seethe out her frustrations, his smile growing wider with every passing moment. "Do you hear that?"

Courtney frowned, "Hear _what_? This is so-"

He gritted his teeth and forced air through them and his puckered lips, pressing his solitary standing finger to them and taking a few steps back, apparently trying to get a better view of the roof. The shapely teenage girl grumbled obscenities beneath her breath, squinted ebony eyes following her boyfriend's receding form as there was obviously not going to be any communication between the two. As she tried to get a comprehensive grasp of the defiant boy's course of action, Courtney briefly took a moment to make sure she penalized the jerk for silencing her in such a disdainful, _disgraceful_ way. Nobody treated her that way, and she was all too willing to do what she could to make that clear.

Moments passed, and the private school student noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Just as Courtney pouted and readied her most venomous bouts to toss in her thoughtless boyfriend's direction, a carnal wail raddled the cabin and filtered out into the night, successfully calming the ferocious young CIT and causing an eruption of similar howls to resonate from deep within the contiguous woodland. Courtney sidled nervously into the fragmented wooden wall behind her, lucidly frightened by the continuous outburst of carnal yelps echoing from the thick pine brush distantly behind her, suddenly thankful she and Duncan hadn't taken DJ and Gwen's place in the forest to search for Izzy.

The perfectionist reached out feebly to the presently beaming young criminal, harshly whispering his name until he approached the cabin once more. She glared at him from her huddled place upon the cabin's highly unglamorous porch. "What was _that_?"

"I-I think it's Izzy!" the green plumed teen chortled out delightedly, a wide grin spread upon the lips Courtney had caressed with her own in what felt like so long ago. "She's on the roof, howling like a coyote. Let's get her down, here, put your foot on the window sill and pull yourself up."

Courtney gave the modestly muscular juvenile delinquent a strange look, as if it was absolutely absurd that he'd even consider going up and apprehending the scarlet locked psychopath from her perch and bring her inside where she could do no extensive harm to the others. She felt around in the seamless darkness for the banister lining the poorly crafted wooden stoop from the unstable set of stairs drawing down into the camp courtyard, and sat down profusely, determined not to partake in anymore of the insufferable boy's wrongdoings. Her slender, tanned arms crossed immediately and her gaze drifted into the distance, finally catching a daunting glimpse of the moon for the first time that entire evening, slightly mesmerized by its ethereal glow, straining for the small Canadian island from the far, immeasurable reaches of space just to reflect the sun's light upon that particular region of the Earth. It was a beautiful, nearly mystical thing, any profound being would've marveled, but it meant little to Courtney, as she snapped her attention back to her boyfriend, now scaling the side of the cabin and reaching out above the flimsy, battered roofing for assistance from the teen evidently already at the top.

"Yeah, I-I'll just stay down here. Just get her down and then we can go back to the beach, right, Duncan?" she spoke uneasily, standing, then shifting from foot to foot in impatience. "Duncan?"

Izzy was struck from her sacrament howling with the frantic clattering of the roof, the support so weak it even threw the young woman out of balance. She cocked her head to the side, fiery tendrils draping over her slender, slightly tanned shoulders and running in a slightly tangled heap down her back, arched as she crawled along the roof to peer over its side, watching on with intrigue as the punk she'd learned she would be sharing a room with for the remainder of her summer was making an effort to climb up to join her.

"What's the password?" the offbeat beauty wagered, giggling evocatively and gazing down through wide emerald eyes, not phased in the slightest by the delinquent's tenuous grip upon the edge of the pitiable excuse for roofing residing shakily beneath her curvaceous, rather exposed body.

"Izzy, help me up," Duncan grumbled lowly. He wasn't intent on revealing his fear to the unstable, splendorous young teen watching him struggle, though the violent jerk of his unsupported foot surged a yelp of desperation from his lips, eyes going wide in panic. "_Izzy_!"

The misbehaved boy gazed up in awe at the notoriously fanatical red head as he was swiftly pulled unto the lodge's peak with only slight hesitation, her small sweat dampened hand encompassing his and skillfully towed him up. He fell onto his back panting, the jagged edges of the roofing pressing into his skin, but not drawing blood through the blackened fabric of his tee-shirt. Propping himself up on his forearms and taking a brief examination of these newfound surroundings he'd forced himself into, Duncan apprehensively met eyes with Izzy, quirking a brow in coy interest as well as slight resistance.

"What're _you_ looking at?" He barked promptly.

Izzy only giggled in response, enraptured with the oddly hued deviant and his contemptuous and self-absorbed mannerisms. The two had never gotten to know one another in the past two seasons, though Izzy – then Explosivo – could recall how impressive his invasion and waylay expertise was when both teams were all too literally at one another's throats for immunity back in Total Drama Action. Even then, she hadn't been given the chance to share her knowledge of any and all things prohibited with the erudite fellow delinquent. The able young lunatic leaned forward, staring intently at the defensive teen's face, tracing invisible lines over every minute detail, as if in study.

"Seriously, _what_ are you looking at?" Duncan groused, too doubtful to push the girl to acceptable boundaries or do much else than scold her as meekly as he had already been. Turquoise eyes, widened in palpable fret and ambiguity, fell half-hooded once more as Izzy fell back onto her haunches, a good few feet from the disdainful former convict.

Snickering once more, this time just under a hastened breath, Izzy tongued at her fuller bottom lip as a means to ease the partial chapping that it'd succumbed to and tasted at the pristine moisture that accumulated thereafter. "How scared you are. You looked more afraid when you thought I was gonna let you fall, but there was no way I'd let you go and break your legs like that."

"I was _not_ scared! Surprised you didn't watch me fall on my ass and laugh about it, maybe, but definitely not scared." The emerald locked swain was quick to spar, casting his view astray of the strangely charming little woman and over the system of gutters lining the edge of the roof. "And how are you so sure I'd break both my legs if you didn't help me?"

"I'm not." Izzy remarked plainly, idly tapping a few unoccupied fingers to her chin, "You could've just broken one leg, or one arm, or both your arms, or one leg and one arm. If you want to get technical, I could try and guess the left or the right, but that could take a lot more time than you'd probably like. Well, I don't really know _what_ you'd like, but you seem like a pretty impatient guy, so I'm guessing you'd wanna get it over with as soon as possible. I know a few guys like that, but they've all filed restraining orders against me, so I guess I don't _legally_ know them, but you get the idea."

"Slow down, babe. I'm not your therapist or some shit, I'm just in it to get everyone back on the beach to calm down. They all think you're plotting some crazy stunt to murder everyone in their sleep, and I thought it sounded pretty cool, but I guess it scared the girls, so we went off to look for you, and I guess I win. Yay." He droned sarcastically, grinning alongside the psychopath as she listened to his own story, not paying much attention to the fact that he'd silenced her in the first place.

"Believe me, if I was planning something that big, I'd do it in the open where everyone could watch their fate unfold in front of their faces, knowing they couldn't do anything to stop it; more eerie that way. That's how it worked in 'The Gutwrencher', at least." Izzy replied with an obviously enthralled smile.

Duncan's thick brows cusped in sudden enthusiasm, going so far as shaking loose mildly astonished chuckle in response to the beauty's educated allusion to one of his own favorite thrasher films. "You like 'The Gutwrencher'? I should've guessed, but it's still cool. So, what were you doing yelling at the moon up here anyway? I know a loveable tub of fun that'd have _no_ problem occupying your free time, if you know what I'm saying."

"Who, Owen?" she spoke in a significantly hushed tone, as if trying to soothe the boy opposite her to quiet his own voice as well. "I'll hang out with him tomorrow, maybe steal something from Chef's trailer and give it to him for lunch; he'll be fine. I always howl at the moon when it's full, but it's normally just wishful thinking. I mean, the odds of a werewolf _actually _living on the island and coming to bite me are really, really, _really_ slim. Doesn't matter, I'm pretty sure they have surgery for that kinda thing. Oh, that's how I'd spend the million dollars if I won!"

He shook his head in amused disbelief, lowering the level of his own voice of mutual respect for the girl, if anything. "Sounds like a plan, I guess."

"Damn straight," Izzy added without missing a beat, quickly meeting eyes with the delinquent, glad to see he was looking right back at her with an eased, lethargic haze clouding his deep azure eyes. "Hey, what're you here for? What're you gonna do with the money if you win?"

Duncan sighed and reluctantly drove his waiting stare from the girl and back into the sky, shaking his head into the freshly discovered silence. He shrugged his broad, slumped shoulders as if an existent weight had been unloaded upon them. Well aware that her presumably muddled attention was settled upon him, obviously expecting an answer, he heaved his chest in a long drawn breath and lolled his head back to face her, grinning surreptitiously. "Actually I was gonna use most of it to pay off my, uh, 'debts' to society for all the hell I raised back home. Whatever's left, I'll probably spend on something big, expensive, and stupid like an indoor pool, or a life-sized Chris McLean dartboard; more likely the dartboard."

"Yeah, Hatchet brand boxing gear would be wicked; get me pumped for our next showdown. He's had it in for me since I stepped off the boat the _first_ time, but I must admire his persistence. I'll knock him down too hard one day, then he'll learn not to make enemies with the great Explosivo!" she mused giddily, running her hands along one another in accordance with her words.

"Explosivo?" Duncan repeated back to her, a bit disbelieving if not just a bit patronizing.

Izzy smiled capriciously, a wild glimmer in her vast emerald pools. "Boom-boom, brochacho!"

The ghastly young radical grinned in response, trying and failing to stifle a much too amused laugh. He ran a large, callous palm over the arm still supporting his well built body, poising his lips to rasp out a brash joke in a less than modest reply, but widened his eyes instead as a painfully familiar shrill flooded through the newly applied silence in the few feet between the two rebellious teenagers.

"Duncan? I-Is she up there? Can we go _back_ now? We still have a—a _lot_ to talk about!" Courtney shouted heavenward, cupping her mouth and making a meager effort not to sound as frightened as she really was; she did _so_ enjoy having that tough, nearly uncontrollable young man wrapped around her finger.

The aforementioned rebel heaved a sigh, yet remaining slightly jovial as he flashed a final, approving smirk back to the twisted scarlet haired girl sitting beside him. "That'll be my cue to get outta here."

"Courtenstein?" the broad eyed beauty replied immediately, remembering less than fondly the instance just before Total Drama Action wherein the delinquent's controlling girlfriend had ruthlessly assaulted her whilst swinging on one of her beloved many jungle vines, believing she knew where the prize money had been stowed away. As far as Izzy was concerned, the fellow female camper was just as insane as people believed _she_ was, but reasoned not to mention anything to her newly acquired acquaintance, of sorts.

Duncan chuckled a bit, crawling on all fours towards the edge of the roof and extending an able hand out to her, asking wordlessly for assistance, and to assist her in return. "Yeah, Courtenstein,"

The slender, explosive young woman nodded in sanction and obliged, clambering her way almost predatorily towards the green haired criminal and encompassed his hand in both of her own. She lowered him down to the porch with slight difficulty, her legs hooked just beneath the rain gutter and her features contorting to reflect some of the strain on her body. Duncan fell on his feet after a few more tedious seconds of struggle, similar grunts falling from both of their lips. He nodded at her, smile dissipating expertly as he turned back to Courtney, her expression exasperated and unhappy, as was habitual as of late.

"You're just going to let her stay up there?" she spoke flatly as he took her hand with only slight hesitation. The two walked from the cabin back in the direction of the beach having long forgotten DJ and Gwen's venture into the forest for much the same reasoning. "We only came out here to get her situated some place where she couldn't _attack_ someone."

"She's fine on her own. Besides, she can go inside anytime she wants. There's a hole in the roof." Duncan retorted, crystalline eyes wandering back into the blackened sky to gaze up at the moon, grinning immeasurably as the sound of Izzy's carnal howling filter into the night.


	3. The Trial Part One

**{A/N} **Howdy readers, and welcome to ALD, chapter three! Okay, my update's _really _late, being that I waited days upon days for more reviews, only to receive little more than the ones I got on the first day of release. It doesn't matter much to me anyway, so long as it's something. You'd be surprised at how giddy one (Me, really) gets that someone's submitted a personal opinion of a work of one's own. Anyway, in this chapter, Chris starts reverting back to his old ways with the teens in the form of a friendly challenge for a coveted certain privilege. You can't expect the man to let them run rampant without even a _mild_ sort of torment, can you? Well, read and review as you will, please. Enjoy!

**{Disclaimer}** I don't claim ownership over any of the characters, names, or any other merchandise referenced in this work of fiction. I do, however, have rights to the situations I set them in, and kindly advise you to ask permission to use said situations if you so choose to.

**{Summary}** As a gift from the production crew of the Total Drama series to the cast, each one of the unwitting teens was shipped back to Wawanakwa for the remainder of their summer, just a few weeks before filming for Total Drama World Tour began. It's the only vacation anyone's had in the past year, what with the past two seasons of glorified, televised torture, and everyone's glad to have some time out of the limelight, as far as they know. What drama will the Total Drama teens stir up on a _real_ vacation, more specifically, which two infamous hoodlums will discover they have much, much more in common than anyone could've thought?

* * *

**A Little Dizzy**

The smoldering golden sun peeked just above the darkened silhouette of the bordering pine-littered knolls, a dim haze of pink and brilliant shades of ginger and purple in its wake, illuminating the slumbering campground with the gentlest of mid-summer lights. The early morning brought with it a feeble chill as well as the glorious light of a new day, in misguiding spite of the insufferable heat the afternoon would soon deliver upon all whom were exposed to the infallible beauty and wrath of the sun. Beneath the simplistic radiance taking place in the placid blue sky, all of Camp Wawanakwa slept soundly following an extensive first night spent socializing with friends once thought lost and enjoying one's self in the company of fellow adolescents near a roaring bonfire, for the most part.

A meek stream of the light of dawn filtered in through the grimy transoms installed into the shambled wooden walls of cabin three, only slightly disturbing the sleepy setting of the unstable lodge's interior. The low hum of snoring sifted about the well-sized room, resonating rhythmically from the well built chests and only slightly disturbed throats of the dwelling's male tenants, forming a soothing sort of listless ambience for the entire cabin, easing each of them into a deeper sense of undisturbed tranquility. The lingering aroma of pine needles drifted its way into the makeshift homestead from the surrounding woodland foliage, mingling pleasingly with the musk of the sequoia-manufactured furnishings, flooring, and parapet for a delightful scent with which to stifle the horrendous stench of the communal washrooms not far from the cabin's place upon the forest limitations.

Stirring flippantly, Duncan heaved himself onto his side and tugged his large hand from the comfort of the single, woolen blanket entangled with his own, lean yet burly limbs and just over his forehead in an attempt to shield his eyes from the developing daylight invading the magnificently drowsy euphoria simply radiating from each of his slumbering cabin mates. The sluggish young felon tossed once or twice more in attempt to vanquish the coming of day and fall back into the slowly departing will of sleep. He groaned in defeat and sat up upon his bunk's mattress, scowling discontentedly at the sound of the outside woods brimming back to life with the soft, collective chirps of the early rising birds and the occasional rustling of the brush, letting on to the ground-dwelling creatures' rousing from their own pleasant slumber.

"Mm, damn it," the green haired teenager moaned lazily under his breath, slipping from the loving caress of the coverlet supplied by the Total Drama staff and falling onto his powerful arms upon the floor, pumping ably up and down on his hands as he executed a solid fifteen pushups and lifted himself onto his feet.

He'd picked up the habit back in his days spent in juvenile hall, performing a modest amount of pushups after waking. It made the typical punishment for backtalk and the odd well placed, but exposable pranks – two of his personal favorite activities – more bearable, being that that was a less than reasonable number of pushups. Eventually, he'd be able to complete fifty each morning without pausing, so he figured he'd keep the unpleasant ritual with him outside the glorified cast-iron box until his next visit to juvie, which was sure to come, judging from his arrogant, seditious and ever so rebellious tendencies.

Duncan blinked himself to mild awareness and slipped a few fingers just beneath the waistband of his boxers, scratching absentmindedly at the flesh that lay there as he kicked his duffle bag into view from its hastily stowed away place beneath his bed. He crouched deftly and unzipped the mouth of the immense shoulder bag, snatching his signature pair of baggy jean shorts and a simple black tank top, knowing that the weather would evolve to unbearably hot conditions by the time he and the others had finished breakfast. The lanky teen hoisted the garments on and smothered the bag into hiding once more, fiddling thoughtlessly with the metallic stud impaling his brow all the while.

"Up already?" the blond young woman rasped to life from the bunk above the delinquent's, tilting her slender upper body upward whilst her hips and legs lay limp under the affectionate hold of her boyfriend's muscular form beside her. "I'm surprised."

Shrugging, Duncan quirked a thick, dark brow in the forthcoming surfer's direction and busied himself with finding where he'd stashed his toothbrush from the protruding side-pocket of his duffle bag, peering out from the edge of his already rather cloth littered mattress. "Shouldn't be. They woke us 'convicts' up about this time every day back home; you just get used to stuff like that. Besides, knowing Chris, you'd be awake pretty soon anyway. Whoever gave him control of that loudspeaker needs to get shot."

Bridgette nodded with a small smile, not yet conscious enough to comprehend more of what her fairly good friend was saying. She watched through heavily hooded jade eyes as the self-proclaimed convict fought with a plastic bag for its contents – a simplistic set of toiletries – and released a reasonably amused chuckle. "I wouldn't say _that_, but he _is_ pretty bad with it. I sometimes think he just likes hearing his own voice."

The kindly young beauty's gaze fell to the tranquilly dozing figure lying next to her, lengthy and marvelously toned arms draped over her waist and mid-thigh while a warm grin spread across his lips as he snored serenely. She ran a few thin yet callous fingers across his face and through his slightly matted flaxen hair, stifling a laugh at the western-style hat Geoff sported, even in sleep. She gingerly pressed her lips to his and whispered a careful morning salutation before returning her attention to Duncan, who offered an amused smirk back at her. She frowned.

"What?"

The boy snickered cockily and folded his well-developed arms over one another, one hand gripping his toothbrush loosely as the opposite held the anomalous, indecipherable brand of toothpaste to match it. "I'm sorry; did you want me to leave you two alone? Just remember you're sharing a room with three other people, _honey_," Duncan mused brazenly, overconfidence and the slightest of sarcasm drenching his every word, "and one of those people happens to sleep _right_ underneath you."

"Oh, shut up, Duncan." Bridgette retorted, more exasperated than angry. "You're going to the washrooms?"

He nodded curtly and waved the items in his hands at the still rather sluggish girl in meager condescension, that same proud smirk gracing his lips. "Yeah. Then, I'm probably gonna go see if Chef's got anything edible out for breakfast. Tell DJ and Lover Boy to come meet me when they get their lazy asses up, would you, doll?"

"And Izzy?" she replied promptly, fair eyebrows rising expectantly.

Thick brows furrowing in confusion, Duncan shook his head in blatant misunderstanding. "What about her? You girls can come eat with us if you want, I guess, I don't care."

"No, I just meant – well, didn't you guys have, like, a heart to heart or something? Or, Courtney told me last night that you talked with Iz on the roof for an hour, so I figured you two were tight and I just never really noticed. I thought it made sense, you guys are both _wicked_ kinds of crazy, but she was kind of flipping out about it. You know how she can get, though." Bridgette spoke softly, weariness still quite evident in her voice.

"_Courtney_ told you? _Shit_." the infamous criminal groused from the now open doorway, a bitter breeze finding its way into the comfortable, albeit unsound, little cottage.

The tormented tinge clouding the delinquent's cold aquamarine stare concerned the spiritual young blond, but he'd lumbered his way out of the apartment before she could say anything to ease his really quite evident trouble. She winced audibly as the frail screen door hammered itself back into the splintered doorframe, successfully waking up the remaining slumbering campers still residing in the cabin. Bridgette sighed and settled her attention upon the less than cognizant teenager reclined on the mattress near her, a delighted grin meeting with her lips once more.

* * *

Less than an hour later, the inadequate living quarters offered to the campers were uninhabited for the most part, most of the residents having migrated to the mess hall for nourishment or well deserved caffeine before truly beginning their day. Many of the teens trudged about the massive, multi-purpose shack still clad in their bedclothes while the others - fortunately earlier rising - collected their nearly indistinguishable rations from the assembled buffet line in clothes most were accustomed to viewing after nearly a year's worth of time spent living in such close quarters with one another. The rickety wooden ramparts were alive with the sound of laughter and mindless chatter, each of the teens gradually ebbing into the realization that they no longer had to be troubled with the matters of weekly eliminations, alliances, or the periodic conspiracies pitting one against the other; this was all just a normal summer sleep away adventure with people both alike and, at the same time, entirely different from themselves.

The long, bulky pulpits the teenagers had once used to designate one another as a Killer Bass or Screaming Gophers still rested upon the cringing wooden floors now seated several of the vastly divergent teens though many benches remained unoccupied. The five residents of cabin three were tucked at the far end of the room at the table that had formerly been recognized as the Killer Bass', nearest Chef Hatchet's buffet lineup, and one of the very few windows set in the entire building. Duncan, DJ, and Izzy were seated on the center-facing plane of the table whilst Bridgette and Geoff sat on their opposite.

"I can't believe Courtney let you get away with chilling out together for so long," Geoff marveled as he brought a spoonful of nearly distinguishable "oatmeal" from his upward curved lips, "She seems like the _seriously_ jealous type."

DJ took a bite from the burnished red apple – most likely some easily disregarded contraband from his home – in his massive, calloused palm and set it back down on the nearly barren expanse of his lunch tray. "_I_ can't believe you forgot me n' Gwen out in the woods! Poor girl got tired, so I carried her back to camp, and we didn't even get here till everyone went to sleep!"

Sputtering away in all too amused laughter, Duncan delighted in the thought of bringing even the slightest of grieves to one of his best friends, and arguably the most kind and compassionate people to ever grace the twisted old summer camp's grounds. The sardonic young felon cast a steady glance past the lovable powerhouse of a man and over to the crimson locked, rather neurotic teen in question. At the moment Izzy was focusing on the sharp edges of her slightly rusted fork as it punctured the surprisingly tough exterior of the thick pile of nothing but foul sitting on her lunch tray before her, a curious yet much too wayward gleam in her shimmering emerald eyes.

It was true, what Bridgette had said earlier, as much as he'd have loved more than anyone to deny any similarity between he and the resident runaway psychopath, Duncan mused silently as his crystalline gaze fell to his own plate, where his own fork lay waste to the mostly inedible slop besmirching the otherwise spotless expanse of his tray in much the same way she was to her own. He tilted his eyes back across the table, where the undeniably friendly aforementioned surfer stumbled across that same discovery, casting a coy glance at him and parting her slightly chapped lips to formulate some sort of cocky response, he was certain.

The arrogant response never came, though her eyes bore into his own in too familiar a manner for the somewhat sheltered delinquent to tolerate. Instead, the laid-back blond toyed with a loose cerise string straying from her beloved boyfriend's unbuttoned shirt, and pointed her almost _mocking_ star from Duncan's to give a warm, unspoken greeting to Geoff – which, at that point, had to have been the third or fourth time that particular morning.

"So, what'd you guys talk about for an hour? I mean, it's kind of a lot for you guys practically meeting for the first time _yesterday_/" the former co-host of Total Drama Aftermath manage to drone just a bit above the usual buzz of breakfast conversation between peers.

Duncan tried his best to shrug nonchalantly. He was more worried about Courtney's true reaction to the happenings the evening before, seeing as how he'd received more than enough of a lecture for _bunking_ with the maniac, let alone breathing a word in her direction. At some point, he'd realize _any_ interaction with any other living human female would result in yet another god damned speech from that impeccably intrusive, controlling _monster_, but would only continue to ignore her. It was when she was angry that he liked her best, after all, though it'd taken much more effort than usual to part ways with the others the previous evening and spend time alone with one another, a feat usually taken on with the utmost enthusiasm. At the time, the slightly unstable teenage felon truly hadn't given it much thought. Being with Courtney had become a trained habit, after nearly a year being lost within the throes of her abrasive, rather unforgiving affections.

"Duncan and me? We talked about our plans to take over the camp and break out the booze, of course! It involves potential bone-breaking, a definite spillage of blood, and laying waste to monstrous beasts in the form of obsessive-compulsive, abusive crazies like Courtenstein." The crazed beauty voiced enthusiastically, big, bright eyes still set upon her utensils assault on her still, otherwise, untouched breakfast.

Geoff nearly choked on his poor excuse for a meal as a raucous grin met his lips, displaying the laughter dancing on the inside. "_Courtenstein_? Dude, Iz, that's priceless! DJ, man, why didn't _we_ come up with that?"

The dark skinned young athelete chuckled in response, nodding his approval at the giggling young lunatic seated beside him, but pursed his lips in interest as Chris, followed by Courtney, filed into the mostly occupied building. Courtney took a seat beside Bridgette, crossing her arms and pouting expeditiously as Chris stepped upon the Screaming Gopher's tabletop, disregarding the looks of annoyance and concern cast blatantly upon him by the three campers seated there.

"Good morning, campers! How was the first night at our first shot at _real_ summer camp?" The shameless masochist didn't give the crowd a moment to retort as he cast a delighted smirk in the direction of the kitchen, where Chef profusely returned it, exiting the room just after the nonverbal exchange. "Good, 'cause it's not getting any better! You guys remember those old challenges we used to have? The battles to the lawsuit-provoking end, the weekly eliminations, the _marshmallows_? Well, they're back, but instead of having you kids compete for a place in the camp, we're having you compete for privileges to make you, the normal, boring ass loser teen, better than your peers _for once_! Now, these challenges can range in difficulty, but trust me, the rewards are _always_ worth it. We've got hot-tub privileges, nights to yourself in the old intern trailers – top quality, by the way, access to the craft services table for a week, and exclusive access to a private beach on the island!"

Bridgette frowned and, in her typical friendly and empathetic nature, placed a hand on the former CIT's shoulder, a look of worry scrawled across the soft frame of her face. "Haven't seen you all morning, and you walk in with _Chris_, of all people? Something up?"

The majority of the three young men, save for DJ, currently focusing for the most part upon the mock camp counselor - further elaborating on the other challenge rewards available – worked extensively to keep a bout of laughter to stir as Izzy mouthed her new sort of nickname for the very young woman sitting across from her, a hilariously obscure expression plastered onto her slightly bronze features. Duncan shook his head and met eyes with Izzy once more, both of them acquiring a favorable grin from the other in honor of the unspoken and modest, if not friendly, understanding they'd come to terms with just a few generously sized hours before.

"Can't seem to get Chris to change his mind about me moving to your guys' cabin. If he didn't have Chef crush my PDA with his _monstrous_ boots and then _toss it in the lake_, I'd be able to get a hold of my lawyers and clear up this mess, but for now, it looks like I'm screwed." Courtney complained, casting a hateful glare at the young adult preaching from the nearby tabletop, and receiving a sardonic grin in return. She grumbled and turned away from him promptly. "I _hate_ that man! I just better get a piece of today's reward as compensation. It's only fair!"

The blonde locked partier chuckled cheerfully and swathed one of his more than able arms around his girlfriend's waist, leaning forward to meet vastly differing eyes with the control freak. "Hate to break it to you, sweets, but I don't think Chris is really one for fairness – or the entire spectrum of, like, teenage emotion. Or _human_ emotion, actually. The dude's a rock, dude."

Courtney scowled at the easygoing teenager and furrowed her brows accordingly. "But common courtesy is a rule _clearly stated_ in his official Camp Counselor contract for his run in the _real _summer camp! He's gotta obey the guidelines, or he's fired; I'll be sure of that. And don't call me 'dude', you fraternity reject!"

"Okay, so, those of us who want to participate in today's relay, head out to the beach in ten minutes where we'll explain the rules, the rest of you, have a fun vacation! I'll leave you with Chef Hatchet as Head Counselor for today, and he's feeling a little wartime reminiscent today, and _you're_ all not at liberty not to listen to his stories if you don't wanna get socked in the mouth! Catch you later, kids!" Chris shouted much too eagerly to leave anyone feeling comfortable as he made his departure from the building, allowing the Mess Hall to rumble with excited conversation.

* * *

**{A/N}** If it's any consolation, this chapter (collectively, really. This is only part one of two, or even three) is _really_ long, and filled with character development for some of the supporting characters (Bridgette and Geoff, sort of, in this chapter.) alongside our main focuses. Really, I didn't anticipate this one being so long, but by the end, I realized I'd practically written a light novel. It just took so long to get the introduction done, I just decided to separate it into two, maybe three parts. Definitely worth it, though, I promise. Stay tuned, everyone.

Anyway, in response to my reviews, thank you all so much for the support and encouragement to continue! It's truly a pleasure to read through your reviews, so please continue to post them as I update! I'm not quite sure where I stand on Courtney bashing in the story, though I'll gladly make it clear that I _hate_ her in my designated annotations (because I _do_, so much). Courtney is a character I've despised from the moment she stepped onto the Dock of Shame, and how she managed to worm her way into Duncan, my favorite character's, (beside his lovely Izzy, of course :D) good graces is beyond me. There is no chance in hell that I'm ending this work with Courtney still in control of him, so no worries to be had there. In addition, I don't very much care for Gwen either (I hate her only slightly less than Courtney, actually…), so I apologize to fans of her who happen to like this story, because I most likely won't be featuring her as often, or give her as many of those just _adorable_ little quirks of hers (Those words were expressed in _massive_ sarcasm quotes). Feel free to ask questions about my shipping preferences (I'm a shameless Dizzy fanatic), ALD (A Little Dizzy), or just my views upon the series or this story in general. I'm always happy to oblige, and will try to answer each quarry in full. Thanks again for coming back every week (or two…) to read and review, everyone; I'll try not to be this overdue with the chapters in the future. Until next time, all.

**~ M. Rouge, of the Morgue**


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